Beyond 4/20 (26 page)

Chapter 14

L
ife made sense again. Their family was intact and Chelsea was happier than she had been in what seemed like forever. Losing John caused her to believe she would never find happiness again, but she was wrong about that. It had been nearly two years since he died, and she had finally found an existence where she could honestly say she was happy most of the time. Just as he had been before, Tuck was again a daily part of her life and the girls’. It felt right. Quickly, the awkward moments of him being newly back vanished, and they began again. He was there before any of them awoke and shared the usual morning routine of breakfast and getting Lucy ready for school. Once he left to take Lucy to school, he would head out to the farm and work until dinnertime. Their nights were like any other family, except that after the girls were sleeping, he would go to his own home. After several months of this, Chelsea saw no signs that Tuck was becoming frustrated. There was instead a peaceful, joyful existence between them. To her, it seemed as if their bond was stronger than it had ever been, though they had still not crossed over into what could be considered a real relationship.

As for her own journey over the past months, she found that God led her back to Him through, of all people, John. The one who drew her heart away was the one who would eventually lead her back again.

Late in the spring, after what would have been John’s and her fifth anniversary, Chelsea was cleaning her bedroom. When she lifted the dust ruffle to vacuum dust bunnies from beneath the bed, she had to move a box in order to reach up under the head of the bed. Though it wasn’t the first time she had moved the box, it was the first time she found herself tempted enough to open it. The box contained some of John’s things, devotionals and journals, things she had never dared to look at before. When she opened the lid, there was a sheet of paper with his handwriting, a note that gave her permission to read anything in the box. It was his journey with God.

John had begun journaling when he got sick. He told her it was a way to keep his prayers focused. She didn’t know what he meant until she opened the cover of one and read a few lines. The entry she read was not his thoughts, but actually John’s prayers directly to God. He addressed God personally and spoke to Him as if it were truly a direct letter. She supposed that’s exactly what it was.

That first day, she began sorting through journals looking for the one he was working on when he refused the heart transplant. Finally, she would at least get some insight as to why he would make such a decision. Even before locating the right journal, she very distinctly heard God direct her to begin at the beginning, to follow John’s journey in its entirety, so she did. She opened the first journal and read from a few days after his heart surgery and moved chronologically through the next few journals. His deepening faith in God and the growing intimacy they shared was evident as she read his writings. In the brief time since he had begun to walk with God, John had found this amazing ability to cry out to Him in such a touching way that it made Chelsea feel cheated somehow. She had never known such unique intimacy with God. She prayed all of her life, most times in true honesty, but never such deep and private things as John spoke to God in his journals. They were so touching and personal that Chelsea had to believe John had truly achieved what he had first set out to do, to become wholly surrendered. His tone was evidence of such a heart surrendered.

One entry:

Father, today is a day that I need You more than I ever have. I feel inadequate. I feel less than a man this morning. Just last night, I found that I couldn’t make love to my wife. In her eyes I found no disappointment, but in my own this morning in the mirror, I see a weak and failing man looking back at me. I’m sure it’s the medication, but for the first time we’ve found one that seems to be helping. Do I continue taking it and leave her without physical intimacy, or do I stop and risk leaving her and our little girl? How can I ever leave her? I’ve promised her a future. Please allow me that. Show me how to give her physical satisfaction when my body is failing me.

As if it were yesterday, those days were etched permanently in Chelsea’s mind. First the night he was unable to make love to her and then a few days later when God obviously answered his prayer and led John in how to love her in a new way.

The night he realized he couldn’t perform, she knew he was devastated. There was something about the way he looked at her. It was just as he said in his journal entry: he felt weak. Chelsea had known that impotence was a possible side-effect of the medication he was taking. She read enough to not be surprised by it. For him, she felt such deep sorrow. His worst fear had come true, at least in his own eyes. Over the course of the next days, she felt his distance from her growing, as if he feared holding her or kissing her might lead to the expectation of intimacy and another failure on his part. Even though Chelsea understood perfectly well why he was being distant, still it hurt her. She physically ached to be in his arms. Those days were similar to the distance he showed just before they ended on that first April 19th. He was loving toward her but not as affectionate as he usually was, leaving a broad gulf that caused her to feel miles away from him.

One night after the girls were asleep, Chelsea walked into the bedroom to find candles burning on the bedside table and John sitting on the side of the bed.

“I’ll love you the best I can,” he said when she walked over to him and stepped into his open arms.

From that night on, at least often enough to make her feel wanted and loved, he made love to her tenderly and intimately without ever actually performing as he once could. The night was beautiful and reminded of her of her last weeks of pregnancy with Sara Beth. For fear of elevating her blood pressure or putting the baby under stress in any way, John made love to her without actually making love to her. Those were the most pure and tender moments of Chelsea’s life. It was the same when he became sick, pure and tender and beautifully romantic.

For the remainder of the day, Chelsea could hardly get the journal entry off her mind. After reading that entry, she was forced to put the journals away. That particular one made her cry more than any other, which really upset Sara Beth. What really followed her throughout the remainder of the day was John’s honesty and openness with God. Every entry, not just that one was so – she struggled to find the perfect word for it until finally it came to mind – humble. His humility was breathtaking. That was not the John Keller she originally met. Always he was so bold and confident, bordering on proud. This John Keller, the writer of the sweetest prayers she had ever read, was an entirely different man. He was an open man pouring out his heartfelt prayers to the God he trusted completely.

Over the course of the next few evenings, Chelsea read John’s journals after the girls went to bed, not willing to risk upsetting them with her tears. She wasn’t sad, not as she was after Caroline’s visit, but instead she felt as if she had a sweet opportunity to hold on to John for just a little while longer as she read. Through his words, she gained a greater insight into her husband than she had ever had. His walk with Jesus was strong in the beginning entries, but as she neared the end, their relationship was so intense and meaningful that she understood for the first time what she had been missing out on all along.

Certainly, she was a devoted Christian, a disciple even. She followed Jesus. Her behavior for most of her life was, for the most part, a good reflection on the name of Jesus. She was faithful certainly. Always, she was confident in faith, but all along, she had missed what was really available to her. There was a deep and abiding relationship that could be known and experienced, one like she never dreamed possible. If she were to be honest, what John shared with the Lord seemed too good to be true, but it was true; even before reading the evidence of it, she had seen it in his last months of life. The strength he had, how he depended on Jesus, could only have come from the power of the Spirit within, from some intimate knowledge of exactly Who was waiting on him after his passing away from this world. John had eternal perspective based on where he was going.

As she came near to the end of his journals, her questions about the heart transplant were answered. Why and when became evident. John’s pouring out of his heart was so tragic and painful at times, there were a few nights she could no longer read; instead, she would find herself on her knees on the bed, sobbing into her pillow. Deep within, there was a gut wrenching compassion for him that felt like nothing she had ever known before. Because of her love for him, his pain and selflessness hurt her just as much as he must have hurt.

In the pages of the current journal she read, John was openly recounting the jealousy he had once experienced toward Tuck early in their marriage before she became pregnant with Sara Beth. Because he never truly loved another before her, the fact that she shared such a deep and binding history with Tuck grieved him terribly. He wanted her to give her heart only to him as he had given his to her. As the pages wore on and as his end drew nearer, though, there was an acquiescence and yielding of himself to the truth that he had come to realize those earlier years during his season of jealousy.

There came that moment when I fully understood: Chelsea was always meant to be with Tuck. I stepped into what was supposed to be. When I asked her, she admitted the truth of it but assured me that whatever was supposed to be wasn’t, and that we are, she and I.

I remember how certain I felt at times that such knowledge, the fact that she truly belonged to another, would mean that I would have to let her go. I just knew it. Because I knew You so little then, I thought that meant walking away, something I wasn’t willing or able to do at that time. She was the very breath of life to me. Then our baby came and that feeling faded. Never did it cross my mind that You would have me leave my family. I knew You better by then.

But now, there’s this: this illness, this knowledge of the end, this understanding that You gave me these beautiful, though too few, years with Chelsea as a gift even though I had spent most of my life away from You. You knew this time would come for me and You could have allowed me to die alone in an office while I strived for more. Instead, You sent her to bring me back to You. You gave me this final time to live happily and filled with more than enough. I am grateful.

Consoled by this heart of gratitude, I accept that the time has come and You are asking me to let go. Walk away? Never! But rather to let go, something You have taught me to do as I have sought to submit myself wholly to You. I have let go of business, money, control, power, and position, and now, I let go of Chelsea. She is Yours, and I trust You with her.

Gasping for breath, Chelsea finally made her way into John’s closet and closed the door. Weeping and mourning, she lay face down on the floor. He didn’t leave her as she had accused after Caroline’s visit; he simply let it go. He never chose to leave her alone; rather he listened intuitively when God said it was time to go home. Those were his final words in that day’s entry.

Because You say it’s time, I’m coming home.

It was days more before Chelsea could continue on reading since it took her those days to fully recover from the last. That night, the night she read that entry, she woke weeping aloud after a dream about John. The moment she woke, she remembered the dream, and even more heart shattering, realized it was the forgotten dream, the one she had when she first came home from L.A. That was the night she opened the box and discovered that he had bought her the house.

Just before falling asleep, she had prayed, “Lord, I need something. Give me peace. I don’t know if I can even make it through this night. My heart is in pieces, and I ache inside in a way like I’ve never known.”

The dream was vivid. She was sore and groggy and just about to drift off to sleep. Feeling soft and tiny kisses being planted all across her face, she whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you all better,” John replied.

That was it, the entirety of the dream, John kissing her all better, but somehow, upon waking she knew immediately that it was the answer to her prayer. God gave her the dream to comfort her, to mend her heart, and put the pieces back together. As she wept, there in the bed she had once shared with her husband, she did so as much for answered prayer as she did over the sweetness of the dream. Just as John had kissed her all better after her car accident, the Lord allowed him to do so one final time. It may not feel all better in that moment, there sobbing in the darkness, but something was settled deep inside, something that assured her she was finally rounding the bend. That bend in the road that had seemingly demolished her future became the path on which her new future resided, one she could finally move toward with true release.

The last of the journals began with John’s visit to Tuck. It read:

I believe that was the final step, and thankfully, Lord, it was easier than I anticipated it to be. How can I look at such a man and not wish to be more like him? That desire has nothing to do with his youth or strength or completely ridiculous good looks. His dedication makes me jealous. His patient endurance baffles me. His undying love for my wife is oddly comforting, as I know she will be his someday. And his devotion to You humbles me. I see You in him. A man cannot love so deeply and completely without Your Spirit enabling. What a man to leave my family to.

I pray for him, for strength to be patient with her. Give him hope when it seems most hopeless. Fill his heart with love for my Sara Beth so that he may truly be her daddy, and give him wisdom to navigate the choppy waters that will be Chelsea’s grief.

All I can say is that I thank You for allowing me to step into their
supposed to be
and know love like this. I never deserved this, but I’m thankful nonetheless. And now, I can die a man content.